


but I can’t sleep next to a body, even harmless in death

by A_dance_with_destiny



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Background Character Death, Ben Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Blood and Violence, Diego Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Drug Use, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Good Parent Grace Hargreeves, Good Sibling Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, The other siblings are there but not for very long, They all need hugs, even numbers squad!, there is a nice ending :), there is quite a lot of blood mentions so be careful, young hargreeves siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:49:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28785975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_dance_with_destiny/pseuds/A_dance_with_destiny
Summary: “I’m sorry.”Ben whispered the words before he knew what he was saying, the tears filling his eyes quickly until he was blinded by them. He wasn’t even sure who he was talking to. He was sorry for the men he had ripped apart, sorry for his brother who now had to deal with the aftermath, sorry for his father for not living up to his expectations, sorry. The word didn’t even feel real anymore.Or, the Hargreeves go on their first mission. They have to deal with the consequences.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Diego Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves & Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Grace Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	but I can’t sleep next to a body, even harmless in death

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!  
> This is my first TUA fic I’ve ever posted, so please let me know how my characterization is! I had fun writing this, but it was a struggle trying to give all the POVs the right balance. I decided halfway through writing to make this more Ben-centric, so hopefully I did him justice.  
> Just a few warnings: this contains a lot of blood. There aren’t super graphic mentions of de*th, but there is a lotttt of blood, so be careful. I had a hard time writing that, and I’m not even that squeamish, so heed the tags.  
> Also, I wrote the whole thing on my phone, so please excuse any typos  
> I hope you guys enjoy! Feel free to leave a comment and give me advice or criticism!

_The circle was getting smaller by the minute. He stumbled around, twisting, trying to keep eyes on his siblings and father who were surrounding him, seven hyenas stalking him, and oh, now they were close enough to step on his feet, sharp tongues growing longer and wrapping around him like snakes, like tentacles, and he heard Diego’s knives thudding against the walls, just barely missing him each time—_

“Ben, dear! Time to get up!”

Ben’s eyes flew open at the sound of his mother’s voice. Her soft knocking continued when he didn’t respond to her beckons. 

“First mission! Be downstairs soon, your father will be angry if you’re late!”

He heard the clacking of her heels over the blaring alarm as she moved on to Allison’s room. Ben groaned, pulling his soft sheets over his head. Their first mission. How could he have forgotten? He knew it was going to be today (Five heard from Klaus who heard from Diego who heard from Allison that their father had been listening in on a certain gang’s correspondence and knew a heist would be planned for today) but of course, there was no warning in advance. In the words of the wise Sir Reginald Hargreeves, “Villains don’t give you their daily schedules!”

By the time Ben had dressed and was on his way downstairs, his siblings were all lined up in the foyer, awaiting further instruction. Well, almost all of them. Ben glanced down the hallway to his left and saw a dark curtain of hair peeking out from behind a door. Vanya. She wouldn’t be allowed on this mission, or any mission. She was powerless. Ordinary. Oh, how Ben envied her right now. 

“Number Six! Get down here! You’re going to make us late!” screamed his father from the bottom of the staircase. Ben rushed down the stairs, squeezing into place beside Five. Then they were loaded into a car and driven away, away from Vanya, and Mom and Pogo, away from the only safe place they had. 

————-

Ben always had the worst stomachaches. 

There was a stash of bags in the car, placed conveniently near his seat, because the motion sickness coupled with the interdimensional being living in his stomach could get...messy. The Horror really took a toll on Ben, mentally and physically. Needless to say, being the portal to another dimension sucks hard. Ben bit down hard on his tongue and tried to distract himself from his churning stomach as he pressed his head against the cool window. 

Today, he suspected, the nausea was mostly due to nerves. 

The car pulled up to the bank and Ben shuffled inside with the others, finding himself in the back room with the robbers and their guns and sacks of cash. The seconds seemed to lengthen as Ben stood there, hands clenched into fists. He knew he needed to get it together and just release The Horror, rip the bandaid off, but he just...couldn’t. 

One of the men smirked, lowering his gun. “Well, kid? You just gonna stand there? Run and tell your mommy?” He laughed, short and harsh, and gestured at Ben with his gun. “Get him with the others,” he said to one of the other men.

_Ok, it’s now or never_ , Ben thought desperately, and, with his eyes squeezed shut, lifted his shirt and felt the tentacles rip out of his stomach. 

————-

The blood was hot. 

It sprayed everywhere. On the walls, the ceiling, in Ben’s mouth and ears. It almost plugged them enough to muffle the screams, which Ben could feel ripping through his soul and making a home right next to The Horror. His nose was covered in it, the smell making his stomach churn worse as The Horror retreated with a horrible squelching sound. Ben was just glad his eyes were shielded from the blood by his domino mask. 

The minute Ben was in the backseat of the car, he felt the exhaustion of the day crushing the pure adrenaline that had been controlling him since that morning. He tried to ignore the crusted blood all over his skin and let his head fall against his seatbelt. His sleep was light, but it was uninterrupted by nightmares. 

When he was woken by Five, the car had pulled up to the academy. Diego had disappeared, and Klaus seemed even more fidgety and twitchy than usual. _Great,_ Ben thought, _I take one nap and somehow, everyone’s in a worse mood than before._

Dinner was quiet. Ben’s stomach still felt like it was being eaten by a python, so he just pushed his food around on his plate and was immensely grateful when Mom didn’t ask any questions. Diego was still nowhere to be found, and when he asked Luther about it, he just shrugged and gestured noncommittally to the floors above them, mumbling something about Diego and Dad getting in a fight. Ben was too exhausted to press any further, so he walked to his room and lay down. 

His mattress must have been magical, because the second he collapsed onto it, he was suddenly wide awake. 

He supposed that was the adrenaline coming back. 

For hours, Ben lay awake, tossing and turning. He tried and tried to sleep, but he couldn’t get the day's events out of his mind. He picked up his book and tried to distract himself, but every other word was a reminder of those men in the bank and what Ben had done to them. 

He groaned in frustration and threw his arm over his eyes. He wasn’t sure he would be able to train tomorrow. He could feign illness...or make up some excuse about The Horror getting stuck in his small intestine...maybe Mom would vouch for him. She always understood. 

A soft pounding at the door jerked Ben out of his thoughts. He threw his covers off and opened the door, revealing a defeated-looking Klaus on the other side. 

“What are you doing?” Ben hissed. “It’s the middle of the night!”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Klaus whined, rubbing his eyes with his palm. “They won’t leave me alone.”

“Who won’t leave you alone?” 

Ben knew the ghosts got worse at night, but Klaus had been managing the few that lived in the mansion full-time. It was only when Dad locked him in the mausoleum that he couldn’t cope. 

Klaus sighed heavily, sniffling a little. Ben was sure he had been crying. 

“The guys from the bank. They’re royally pissed, Ben, they followed us home.”

Ben’s heart seemed to leap into his throat. He suddenly found the usually cold house to be stifling. 

“Will you come to the kitchen with me? I’m afraid Dad will smell it if we stay up here…”

Klaus held up a small bag of joints. Ben sighed. Klaus had only recently picked up this habit, but it was quickly becoming a daily thing. Ben was more than a little worried, but he, too, couldn’t sleep, and he wanted a distraction more than anything. So, he closed his door as quietly as he could and walked with his brother to the end of the hall and down the stairs. 

The kitchen was dark and cold, but it was far away from the rest of the house and they could be as loud as they wanted. Klaus lit his joint while Ben scoured the pantry for something to eat. He had barely touched his dinner and although he wasn’t hungry, he was starting to get a headache from low blood sugar. 

“So…” he started, sitting in the chair next to Klaus, who already had his feet kicked up on the table and his head hanging back as he blew smoke in a thin stream from his lips. “What are they saying? The ghosts, I mean.”

Klaus opened his eyes, shifting to Ben for a moment before focusing again on the ceiling. “Well, they hate your ass, that’s for sure,” he said. “They keep making all these death threats and shit, like that’s gonna do anything.” Klaus giggled and brought the joint to his mouth again. 

Ben found it hard to swallow as he glanced around the room, sure he was staring straight through the bodies of the men he had killed only a few hours before. He felt his eyes start to water but blinked back the tears, instead trying to scrape the cream from the inside of his oreo. 

“Hey, what happened with Diego? I haven’t seen him since I fell asleep in the car,” Ben said, a desperate attempt to change the subject. He felt Klaus watching him out of the corner of his eye, but elected to ignore him. 

“Oh, y’know. Dad was being an asshole, so Diego asshole-d him back, and he stormed off. What a drama queen,” Klaus said, his gesticulations blowing smoke around the kitchen. Ben usually hated the smell of weed, but it was better than blood. 

“Oh,” he said finally, and when Klaus stayed silent, he looked over at him and saw his glassy eyes and unusually forlorn expression. He saw Klaus flinch, a minuscule, pained movement, and Ben knew it was the ghosts. The ghosts that used to be people. People that _he_ killed. His stomach clenched painfully. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Ben whispered the words before he knew what he was saying, the tears filling his eyes quickly until he was blinded by them. He heard Klaus turn to look at him quizzically. Ben wasn’t even sure who he was talking to. He was sorry for the men he had ripped apart, sorry for his brother who now had to deal with the aftermath, sorry for his father for not living up to his expectations, sorry. The word didn’t even feel real anymore. 

Painful sounds escaped his throat as he sobbed into his oreos. He felt Klaus’s arm around his shaking shoulders and he tried to keep down what little food he had eaten that day. The phantom pressure of blood on his skin was searing, branding him with his crimes and he swore he could still taste it’s sickening copper tang on his tongue. He felt gagged with it. 

It felt like hours before he was finally able to pick his head up. His shaky breathing was beginning to return to normal, but his occasional sharp gasps pierced his lungs and made him feel lightheaded. 

“Hey, what’s wrong, Benerino?” Klaus’s arm was still on Ben’s back. He had abandoned his joint on the table. Ben sniffed and shook his head. While Klaus was the best person he could tell, since they both hated their powers more than anything, Ben just couldn’t bring himself to admit what he had done out loud. He was a monster. He always would be. 

Fortunately, he was spared the explanation when Mom walked into the kitchen, followed closely by Diego. Klaus dove to get a hand over his joint before she could see it, but she gave him a look and he handed it to her anyway. Diego’s eyes were red and puffy. Ben wondered if they had cried for the same reasons, and wiped the remnants of his own tears away. 

“What are you two doing up?” Mom asked, putting a hand on both of their shoulders. 

Klaus shrugged. “We couldn’t sleep. What are _you_ doing up?” 

Diego sat heavily in the seat across from Klaus. “Nightmare,” he mumbled, and started playing with a string from his sleeve. 

“Well, if you want a midnight snack,” Mom began, snatching the Oreos from Ben and replacing them with a small plate, “you’re in luck! I’m making my famous chocolate chip cookies.”

——————————————————--

“Diego! Throw it!”

Surrounding him on every side were the results of his siblings’ training paying off. He heard the shrieks as Ben lifted his shirt and released The Horror. He heard shattering glass and knew someone had just been thrown through a window by Luther. He saw their antagonists walking around with white eyes after being rumored by Allison, before being cut off by Five appearing out of nowhere. 

They had only been there five minutes. 

While they were clumsy, the others were doing their jobs. They hadn’t quite figured out the ins and outs of thinking on the spot in a new environment, but they were doing what they were there to do. Diego just couldn’t seem to release the knife he had clenched in his sweaty fist. 

“Just throw it, Diego!” Allison yelled, trying to hold off her attacker. “Don’t just stand there! _I heard a rumor…_ ”

_Why_ couldn’t he throw it? He had done it plenty of times in training, with perfect accuracy and without hesitation. The targets were just moving this time, what was the problem? 

_Ok, ok, just throw the knife, just get it over with,_ he thought to himself, and set his sights on a man trying to sneak away out the back. He drew a breath and released his knife, willing it to land right between the guy’s ribs. Diego heard a splitting sound as the knife tore through layers of clothes, then skin, then those delicate internal organs, and he saw the man fight for a moment before sliding down the wall and going limp. 

Diego was elated, oh what his father would think of him now, the _first try!_ But it quickly grew into a feeling he couldn’t quite name. Seeing the knife embedded in the man’s chest, seeing his blood, brought a strange feeling to Diego’s stomach. But he didn’t have to time ponder, because The Umbrella Academy had successfully detained all of their enemies, and it was time for pictures and press. 

Standing on the steps, surrounded by cameras, Diego put on his most winning smile and tried to ignore that gnawing feeling in his stomach. 

—————-

The ride back from the mission was quiet. Ben and Klaus were nodding off in the back, while the rest stared out the tinted windows at the cloudy sky. The silence was only punctuated by Luther’s occasional retelling of the mission to their father.

“-and then, I punched him into the wall, and-“

“Number One, if you are going to keep up this incessant boasting, you can walk back to the Academy!”

“Yeah Luther, no one cares. I’m trying to sleep,” Klaus muttered.

“Oh, shut up Klaus, at least I did something! All Diego did was stand there the whole time. He only got one guy!”

Diego looked at his hands. Luther’s taunting was bad enough, but he hadn’t even thought about what Dad would say. If he was lucky, his punishment would just be harder training tomorrow. Hopefully there wouldn’t be too much yelling. 

“Just one, Number Two? Have you forgotten all of our training already?”

Diego was silent. He felt four pairs of eyes boring into his skull. A few drops of rain splattered on the window. 

“I asked you a question, Number Two. It’s only polite to respond.”

Diego pushed down his rage as far as it would go, took a breath, and glared at the back of his father’s head in the front seat. 

“N-none of my knives were sh-sharp enough. I couldn’t have g-gotten a decent hit in, I didn’t want to—“

“Excuses, excuses. Number Two, it seems as though you’re not prepared for the real world. You’re not nearly as competent as your siblings; at least they can get more than one kill.”

Diego clenched his jaw, his face growing hot. He didn’t dare look up, because he knew he would be met with suppressed snickers and pitying glances. The thing he wanted most in this moment was to reach over the seat between them and sucker-punch his father, but he couldn’t move. He was frozen to his seat, staring down at his fists, one of which was still holding the bloody knife. 

The rest of the car ride passed in awkward silence. As soon as it smoothed to a stop, Diego was tearing off his seatbelt, wrenching the door open, and storming into the house and straight to his room. 

—————

_He was running through the house, being chased by his father, the halls dark and full of the eyes of his siblings; running straight ahead, tripping over a body, the body, the knife twisting and squelching and spraying blood, and when his hand reached up to cover his eyes and block out the sight, he felt them covered in it—_

Diego shot up, gasping, drenched in sweat. He cautiously reached up to feel his cheeks, finding not blood, but real tears. His breathing slowed and he took in his room. It was dark, probably 1 or 2 o’clock in the morning. With shaky legs, Diego made his way to the hallway and started walking to calm himself down. 

He walked as slowly as he dared. He didn’t want to be discovered out of bed, especially after missing dinner. He was so wrapped up in staring at his feet that he didn’t notice his mom, charging, staring at the wall of paintings. He tried to sneak past without her noticing, but—

“Diego! What are you doing up so late, silly? You know you should be in your room.”

Diego froze. “Uh. I-I was j-j-just…” he trailed off, searching for an excuse, but coming up short. 

“Come sit with me,” Mom said, gesturing at the spot next to her. Diego hesitated, then sat down at her reassuring smile. Their father was probably asleep, anyway. 

“What’s wrong, Diego? Why are you up so late?” Mom asked, putting her arm around Diego and pulling him to her side. 

“I-I-I j-just h-ha…” Diego sighed, frustrated, and tried again. “I j-just h-had a n-ni…”

“Remember, picture the word in your mind,” she said, rubbing Diego’s arm. He took a breath and willed himself to just say what he was trying to say. 

“I just h-had a n-n-nightmare.”

“Oh! Well, why don’t we talk about it so you don’t have another one?”

She was staring at Diego expectantly. He knew he would have to say something eventually, he just didn’t know if he could. 

“D-during the m-mi-mission… I-I k-k… I k-ki...I killed someone. And I kn-know that’s wh-what we’re s-su-supposed to do, but I…” Diego started to sob, choking on his words, as the day’s events started to hit him. He killed someone. He really took someone’s life away, someone that may have had a family, ambitions. Maybe he had pets. Who would take care of them now?

Diego clutched at his mother’s dress, shaking, feeling like he might vomit. He could still see the body in his mind, burned into the inside of his eyelids. 

Mom was silent for a moment, just a comforting presence. When she spoke, it was softly, with great care. “I can understand how difficult this must be for all of you. Living is not something anyone should take for granted. But I hope you know that your father is doing this to help you reach your greatest potential.”

Diego sighed. “M-mom, you’re just p-programmed to say that. Don’t you realize, we don’t need to do this! We could be living n-normal lives right now, w-with normal f-f-families!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Diego’s eyes went wide as he choked on his tongue trying to apologize. 

“Th-that’s not what I m-meant...I l-love you, M-Mom, I j-just…”

“There’s no need to apologize, dear,” she said with a smile, squeezing his arm reassuringly. “I know this isn’t a conventional family, but I think we get along just fine.”

“Maybe,” Diego mumbled, “but it’d be nice if D-Dad w-wasn’t such an a-asshole.”

He knew he would regret that one, too. 

“Don’t use that word, Diego,” Mom said sternly. “I know your father is tough on you sometimes, but—“

“I j-just c-can’t believe he th-thinks k-ki-killing people is the r-right thing to d-do! W-we’re trying to st-stop crime, n-not c-cause it!”

Mom was silent, still rubbing Diego’s shoulder soothingly. Diego felt guilty about his outburst, but he knew she wasn’t capable of holding a grudge. He just hoped he wasn’t so loud that he woke his father. 

“Why don’t we go make cookies?” she finally said, already unplugging herself from her charging port and moving to stand up. 

Diego’s mouth twitched up in a small smile. “I guess c-cookies couldn’t h-hurt.”

————————————————-———

Klaus felt like someone had tried to unscrew his head from his body. Of course, that was always how he felt after a long night in the mausoleum, but he hadn’t been anywhere near that hell-hole for a week. No, this time, the ghosts came to _him._

During the mission, the various dead bodies littering the ground were nothing more than markers of his siblings’ success...and tripping hazards. Yes, they were morbid, yes, they were really gross, but Klaus was too busy trying not to get shot to think about what those particular bodies would mean for him. But now, here they were, screaming at him and wandering around his room. And Klaus felt like shit. 

The drugs helped, they really did. Spending a few hours in the mausoleum high was much different than a few hours sober. Of course, Reginald had no idea. So far, Klaus had kept his little secret, well, a secret. 

Tonight was arguably even worse than the mausoleum. These ghosts had a personal vendetta against Klaus and his siblings. They were right up in his face, bloody knives and tentacle-shaped holes and all, staring at Klaus and willing him to stare back. Klaus knew the ghosts couldn’t do more than scream, but they were loud, _so loud,_ and he was getting nauseous and his splitting headache was only getting worse. So, when he found himself in the kitchen with Ben, trying to get him to stop crying, he was grateful for the distraction. 

Truthfully, if Klaus could steal Ben’s powers and replace them with his own, he would. The Horror was scary, sure, but at least it wasn’t always _there._ But Klaus knew Ben hated his powers more than anything, so he kept his mouth shut. 

“Hey, what’s wrong, Benerino?” he asked when Ben lifted his head from his hands and stopped shaking so horribly. Ben looked like he was about to say something when they were interrupted by Mom and Diego. The look on Diego’s face was similar to the one he got when he couldn’t stop stuttering, but it was twisted and sad this time. _Jesus,_ Klaus thought, _I should have brought more weed._

The three brothers sat in silence the entire time the cookies were baking. Ben and Diego stared at their laps, and Klaus wondered if this would be easier if he, too, was crying. All he had to do to make that happen would be to look at the ghosts around him, but finally he reasoned that it would be better for at least one of them to be sane. Mom hummed some cheerful tune as she set the cookies down on the table and loaded them onto their plates. 

“Milk, anyone?” she asked, and set a gallon of milk in front of them when Diego gave her a small nod. “Oh, we’re out of napkins. I’ll have to get some from the storage closet,” she said, and walked swiftly down the hall. Klaus swung his feet back onto the table, took a bite of a cookie and drank a mouthful of milk right out of the gallon, ignoring Diego’s annoyed glare. 

“So,” Klaus started around a mouthful of cookie, “why is everyone acting like it’s someone’s funeral? Oh—” He glanced over at one of the ghosts standing near him and laughed at the murderous expression on his face. “Sorry about that,” he whispered, giggling. 

“Because, Klaus, missions fucking suck!” Diego pushed his cookie plate away from him and pointed a finger at Klaus menacingly. “Not that you would know, you didn’t do anything the entire time.”

Klaus feigned offense, gasping widely and putting a hand on his heart. “How dare you! You know, I was a great help. I held the doors open for you assholes.”

Diego scowled and sat back in his chair with a huff. Ben shifted uncomfortably. 

“Seriously guys. You threw a pity party and forgot to invite me!? What’s the _problemo_?”

Reluctantly, Diego sat up again and faced Klaus. “I don’t kn-know. I just...I g-guess I didn’t expect missions to be s-so...brutal. I mean, in training, my targets aren’t...you know...p-people.”

Klaus’s eyes widened in realization. _Their_ problem was also _his_ problem: the ghosts that haunted him must also be haunting them, just less literally. A ghost was standing behind Diego, a knife sticking out of his ribs. Yep, he _really_ should have brought more weed. 

“ _Oh,_ ” Klaus said softly, looking over at Ben who was nodding slightly. “I thought...I thought you guys were prepared for that stuff. I mean...I guess dear old Dad didn’t really clarify...”

Ben looked over at Klaus slowly, brows furrowed. “You can see them.”

Klaus blinked. “...yes?”

“You said...you said earlier they were mad. Tell them we didn’t want to, tell them...tell them we didn’t have a choice.” Ben’s face was morose, twisted in something that Klaus could almost call grief. 

Diego was looking between them in confusion, eyes occasionally wandering around the room as if searching for the invisible ghosts. It was only then that Klaus noticed none of the ghosts had made a peep during the whole conversation. They were all listening intently; faces still twisted in scowls but staying quiet. 

“Maybe...maybe if you tell them we didn’t want to kill them, they’ll leave you alone,” Ben continued, swiping at his tears. The ghosts started shuffling in Klaus’s peripheral vision. Klaus took his feet off the table. 

“Um. Okay.” He cleared his throat and stood up, swiveling to see all the ghosts. “Uh. Hey guys. Sorry about your current...predicament, but my brothers here really didn’t want to kill you, it’s just that our Dad is the worst person alive and would probably kill _them_ if they didn’t kill you, so—“

“That’s no excuse,” a gruff-voiced ghost cut him off. “They could’ve just had us arrested.”

“Yeah!” the ghost with the knife chimed in. “Now who’s gonna feed my cat?”

“...cat?” Klaus whispered, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, okay, everybody just...settle down. Look, this was our first mission. We didn’t know what to do, or...I mean, theoretically, yeah, we should have just arrested you guys or something but our dad just set us loose at this random bank! He knew you guys were gonna rob the place but conveniently decided not to tell us that, let alone tell us the correct superhero procedures or whatever...you can’t blame them, alright? Go haunt ol’ Reggie for all I care, just leave them–leave _me_ –alone.”

The ghosts mumbled to each other, gesturing to Ben and Diego and nodding in agreement with each other’s statements. Klaus sighed and glanced at Diego, who looked–if it was possible–even more sad than before. 

“Oh! And, we can find your cat and make sure it gets a good home,” Klaus said, grasping at straws now. He just needed some _peace._ But the ghost nodded, said something about his cousin liking cats, and they began to file out of the room, apparently content with the verdict that had been reached. Klaus flopped in his chair and ran his hands down his face, glad that his headache was finally subsiding. 

“Thanks,” Ben said, looking more at-ease. Diego seemed to relax, too. The three sat there, eating their cookies and cracking jokes, lightening the mood little by little when Mom returned from her quest to get napkins. 

“It seems there isn’t a single napkin in this house!” she exclaimed with a chuckle. “I’ll have to get some tomorrow.” She paused, watching Ben’s smiling face and Diego’s laugh when Klaus tried (and failed) to chug the rest of the milk. “Well, I’m glad you all are feeling better. But you should get some sleep. You have a busy day of training, after all.”

Ben yawned in agreement and they shuffled up the stairs and to their rooms. Klaus hesitated before walking into his own, remembering the ghoulish nightmares he so often had and that he knew the others had, too. 

“Hey, guys?”

Diego and Ben paused at the doors of their respective rooms, turning back to look at Klaus. 

“Do you wanna have a sleepover?”


End file.
